Fray to Feed the Hungry
by Shana Hager
Summary: On Thanksgiving Day, the Smashers duke it out for a good cause.


**Fray to Feed the Hungry**

 **I just got back from the Run to Feed the Hungry and got this story idea. I hope you enjoy.**

It was that time of the year again—Thanksgiving. The day where everyone stuffed themselves with turkey, stuffing, corn, potatoes and pie. The day where everyone stopped to reflect on the people and places they normally took for granted. The day where loved ones gathered at the table and said something nice about the person on their left. The day where people from all walks of life stopped to consider what and who they were thankful for.

Thanksgiving was taken seriously in the world of Smash. After all, Master Hand didn't just organize it for people to beat each other up. He wanted legends to cross paths with other legends and bonds to form. And it worked. After the fiasco in 2008, the Smashers began to consider themselves a family—an "is" rather than an "are". So, on one day each year, Master Hand hosted a delicious feast where those he invited sat to enjoy a hearty meal and give thanks—for being here, for meeting new faces and for the opportunities offered to them.

Before that, however, Master Hand arranged a very special activity—a chance to burn calories before the feasting began, if you will. It was a titanic free-for-all on the Big Battlefield. And it wasn't just mindless brawling. Heck, it didn't even count against the Smashers' win-loss records. All would be rewarded for participating, and the victors' spoils would be donated to a food kitchen of their choosing. This event was called—the Fray to Feed the Hungry. Similar to the Run to Feed the Hungry, except it involved fighting.

This year's Fray to Feed the Hungry was going to be big. Close to sixty fighters would be slugging it out for a good cause. This was a departure from the first one, which consisted of twelve Smashers battling in the Duel Zone. They'd all spent the weeks before warming up for it, and on Thanksgiving Day, they emerged ready to give it their all.

Check in began at 7a.m. The Original Twelve arrived first. Then the Melee veterans, and then the Brawl veterans, and finally the newcomers. They mingled in the lobby, snacking on donuts and sipping coffee or tea, chattering and playfully teasing one another about who would win.

"I hope you've practiced your swordsmanship," Marth said to Roy.

"I don't think it's _my_ swordsmanship you should worry about," Roy coolly replied. "I'm going to light that battlefield up."

"You know, I'm rooting for you," Marth said softly.

"Thanks, Marth. You, too."

The two swordsmen shared a searing kiss. "We are going to smoke turkeys out there," said Roy when the kiss ended.

"Hey, chillax!" Reflet called to them, Cloud on his arm. "This one isn't just about winning, remember?"

"Instead of thinking about victory, think about the less fortunate in our homeland who desperately needs your help," Lucina chimed in.

Marth and Roy nodded. Despite the policies they introduced, Altea and Pherae still saw homelessness and food shortages. Many nonprofit food kitchens had been set up in both kingdoms, but they thrived on charitable donations from the populace. Marth and Roy's participation in the Fray to Feed the Hungry had boosted the funding for these kitchens since Marth's first go-round in 2001.

"Look sharp, now," said Cloud. "We have a ton of food kitchens depending on us."

By 7:30, the lobby was nearly full. Smashers sat on the floor, stretching out their limbs. Mii reporters were live on the scene, picking fighters to interview. Event sponsors set up booths outside. Volunteers cleaned and decorated the Big Battlefield with ribbons, balloons and papier-mache turkeys. Master Hand watched over the scene, making sure everything was in its proper place.

"It's a chance for us to show the world that we're more than just pounding the heck out of each other," Mario was saying to a reporter. "We leave grudge matches and desires for glory at the door and put a proactive spin on the spirit of giving."

"Are you expecting this fray to be more exciting than the last?" asked the reporter.

"Oh, yeah!"

At 7:45, Big Battlefield was open, and the Smashers started heading over. They sat on the platforms, legs dangling, or dropped in any open area of the stage. Some began to shake their limbs, roll their shoulders or march in place, trying to get their blood pumping. It was brisk this early in the morning, but once the fight began, the chill would be all but forgotten.

Link, the Hero of Time, finished cleaning his sword when his eye fell upon his old friend, also clothed in green. Smiling, the elf headed over to the man, who was seated crisscross applesauce, hands in his lap, eyes clothes, breathing meditatively.

"Hey," said Link.

"Hmm?"

"You ready?" asked Link.

The other man smiled, eyes still closed. "I've always looked forward to this," he murmured softly.

"A rupee for your thoughts?" offered Link.

Luigi finally opened his eyes and turned toward Link. "This is a very big thing," he said. "These are hungry men, women and children we're fighting for. I mean, in New York—there are a lot of disadvantaged communities, and Hurricane Sandy only exacerbated their problems. And the Toads—they've been antagonized for so long, and they need at least something to help them through the wars and kidnappings. I just wish more attention was paid to them."

"Zel and I think so, too," said Link.

"I'm going to go out there," vowed Luigi, "and I'm going to make sure that the starving and impoverished masses watching can see me, so that they know at least someone is looking out for them."

Link nodded. "Kick some butt out there, L," he said.

"You too, Link. You too."

At 8a.m., the big brawl was 15 minutes away. Gradually, the activity settled down to a quiet buzz as the Smashers psyched themselves up for the task at hand. They had to think differently than during normal matches, because it was not about depleting the opponents' stock or knocking out as many people as they could. It was about giving back.

At 8:10, complete silence fell as a flag with the Smash symbol on it and the American Flag were raised, and a Mii orchestral band performed the national anthem.

"Good morning, and Happy Thanksgiving to you all," said Master Hand once the band was finished. "I am pleased to see that once again, the Smasher have once again come out, not in a battle for glory or might, but in a battle for a charitable cause. The spoils each participant receives will go straight to a food kitchen of their choosing, ensuring that the less fortunate will at least have hot meals to alleviate their stressful lives. As always, battlefield decorum will be strictly enforced, and you are strongly encouraged to give it everything you have, and to also have fun. Smashers, I am proud to announce the 2016 Fray to Feed the Hungry!"

The Smashers cheered.

"I wish you all good luck, and keep your wits about you," said Master Hand.

The disembodied glove floated away, and Xander took his place to initiate the countdown.

"10—9—8—7—6—5—4—3—2—1—GO!"

The Big Battlefield exploded as the Smashers rushed toward each other, fists and weapons raised. Reporters excitedly commentated on the action, and the audience cheered ecstatically. Nothing was held back, the sounds of punches and kicks reverberating throughout the huge stage and sunlight danced on shiny swords. Energy blasts, plasma, fireballs and electricity surged back and forth, and bodies leaped and dodged, seeking for openings.

Normally in such a crowded environment, Luigi would mainly rely on fireballs and long-ranged attacks, and when opponents sneered at him for doing so, he'd lure them toward him and make them wish they hadn't. On this special battle, the man in green decided to switch thing up. This time, he was in the thick of the fighting. He opened his charge with fireballs before letting rip with his powerful attacks. Before long, his battle cries rose above the others, and the other fighters were bedazzled by his flashing eyes.

With each attack he threw, he focused on the mental image of a starving Toad, or a group of children picking through piles of trash hoping to find something edible, or a family shivering in the cold. But most of all, Luigi thought about the 1% who had it all, enjoying seven-course meals at five-star restaurants and buying fancy clothes and perfume and the like while others had to live off of scraps! Thinking of the rich and of how they took and took put that fire in his eyes. His folks didn't experience an easy glide to prosperity. His and Mario's grandparents arrived in New York from Italy in a small steamboat and settled in the part of town known as "Little Italy". For the first few years or so, they worked menial jobs which brought them enough to last them about a month and a half, and labor those days—wasn't as cozy as labor today. They faced racism, bias and hatred—their bosses would try to find excuses to fire them! From them came Mario, Sr., who toiled his way to the position of factory foreman, and the strong-willed and independent Sofia, and they brought up their sons to be hard-working and persistent, and not to ride someone else's coattails to greatness.

And look where the Mario Bros started out! In Mario's case, suspended at dangerous heights and covered in sweat and sawdust at a construction site. In Luigi's case, covered in sweat and grease and oil as a mechanic at a steel works plant. Then, they toiled together in the sewers, covered in things we don't want to think about, until they crawled their way into a fantasyland and were elevated to the status of heroes. They might be first-class citizens now, but look how far they had to go! They still did some plumbing on the side, but they tackled less nasty projects like sinks and toilets.

But the rich? Some of them were born into wealth and material comfort and took it all for granted! How about giving some of that money to people who really needed it?

The parties of the rich and the meager sustenance of the poor clashed with these thoughts in Luigi's mind, and he translated the righteous fury it produced into raw power. He lit into the Smashers that came his way, launching himself like a human rocket into crowds of them and grabbing and hurling them off the stage. The population on the battlefield began to dwindle, yet he was still standing. This tended to happen every year, Luigi going all-out as he thought about the many families who couldn't afford a Thanksgiving turkey or a nice apple pie. So many Smashers shared his sentiments that they were more motivated to fight their best than in regular battles.

A small smile quirked Master Hand's face as he observed the action from above. He knew that the impoverished and starving masses were watching—somehow, somewhere. And he knew that they were aware of what his Smashers were doing for them, and that they were thankful for it.

"We are looking out for you," he murmured. "Some may not care, but we do. Soon, you will want for nothing…"

 **Happy Thanksgiving!**


End file.
